


Truths

by lollercakes



Series: It's All in Your Head [1]
Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Memories, References to Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 04:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15900618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollercakes/pseuds/lollercakes
Summary: It is not a whimsical fantasy when one wakes up cold with sweat, shivering and damp. It is a harsh truth when dreams plague a mind through the night and leave the body with darkened eyes, haunted as the morning drags onward.





	Truths

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to tell you right up straight I've never read these books. I have no skill for writing in this style. No understanding of propriety in the 1800s. But alas, here this one-shot is because I couldn't get it out of my head. Love it, hate it, up to you. Just if you're going to tell me it's OOC or poorly sticks to canon, I got nothing for you cause I'm coming in blind on this one!

It is not a whimsical fantasy when one wakes up cold with sweat, shivering and damp. It is a harsh truth when dreams plague a mind through the night and leave the body with darkened eyes, haunted as the morning drags onward. 

 

That’s how Anne Shirley Cuthbert wakes one mid-winter morning, curled into her pillow with the blanket pulled tightly over her face. It hurts to look out at the dull sunlight. It hurts to think about the need to get up, Marilla downstairs beckoning her for breakfast. She wishes it would all go away and she could forget that this day ever came. 

 

But she couldn’t turn off the sun and wish for night to return. It wasn’t possible. So she takes a deep breath and swings her feet out to the floor, hissing as the cold wood presses into her skin and rakes goosebumps down her spine. 

 

“Anne, what is keeping you?” Marilla asks from outside her door, her knuckle a slight rap away but close at hand. 

 

“I’ll be down shortly,” she calls back. Her voice rasps as she rubs fitfully at her eyes. She needs to snap out of this haze, to come back to the world of the living and abandon this morose feeling that boils in her belly. 

 

“Well, the eggs are getting cold is all.” Marilla’s voice is low, like she understands the battle raging behind the door, and Anne knows that her patience is part kindness, part propriety. Forcing herself to her feet Anne slaps at her nightgown and goes about her morning, dressing and preparing for school as the fog in her mind sinks lower. 

 

She walks the well-tracked pathways to school with her chin tucked into the knot of her scarf, eyes downcast and thick puffs of moisture rising into the air around her head. Her attention is so inward focused that she barely notices the shadow at her heels, following her closely but giving her space to trudge forward. It’s not until she’s on the steps of the schoolhouse with the door opened for her that she takes in the sight of Gilbert beside her, a pensive look on his face as she passes by. 

 

The coursework and the readers make no sense to her and for the first time in countless months Anne keeps her hand in her lap rather than flung high above her head. It doesn’t go unnoticed but neither Diana nor Ruby can capture her attention with their soft touches or their stricken glances. So at a loss for this change in behaviour, Diana stands still as Anne packs up in silence and heads out into the dimming daylight on her own. 

 

She makes it halfway through the forest paths before her shadow catches up to her, a gentle hand at her elbow dragging her gaze upward. Gilbert stands beside her, head cocked to the side and a half-smile on his lips. The smile slips and falters as Anne’s eyes well. 

 

“ _ Anne _ ,” he breathes, a frown growing and bringing his brows into a furrow. His mirroring of her despair causes her resolve to shatter and she drops her books, collapsing to her knees before him as the feelings overwhelm her. 

 

Gilbert is there as she curls inward, his hands ghosting over her shoulders as his knees fall into her shimmering line of sight. The sob cuts through her and steals her breath, a gasp following as she tries to capture some air to fill her desolate lungs. 

 

“Oh, Anne,” Gilbert sighs, his voice cracking as slowly, so slowly, his arms come to wrap around her shoulders. It feels so foreign, so unknown, to have someone pull her close. All the memories of the lashes, the hands raised in anger and the tips of the belts digging into her skin come storming back and she’s forced to pull away at the feel of it. 

 

Her mind struggles as she tries to steel herself again, drawing her vivid imagination back inside as she tries to lock away that ancient pain. She can’t help but wonder how one is expected to process comfort when they’ve shared so little of it. How is she to accept the quiet comfort that Gilbert offers with a hand unwilling to withdraw?

 

“Let me walk you home,” he murmurs as she looks solemnly at her books, her hands twisted in her lap. The way she pulls at her knuckles, furiously and with her nails, makes him pause between collecting her things. His fingers still her actions before he even realizes what he’s doing, surprise floating through him as he takes her hands softly in his. 

 

“They used to rap my knuckles if I didn’t get the stains out,” she whispers lowly, her words barely audible above the sound of the forest around them. His grip tightens instinctively, his expression hardening before he pulls away to slide her books into his bag in a hurried rush. The speed of it, the withdrawal, is familiar enough to remind Anne that her past is one best left unshared and she takes it as a rebuff, jolting to her feet and quickly brushing the snow from her legs. 

 

A heavy silence settles between them as she tries to rouse the courage to ask for her school items back, the very ones Gilbert has so forcefully placed into his bag not moments earlier. For the first time in a long time Anne is lost for words and it makes her falter, her hands twisting anxiously once more. 

 

“Stop that,” he hisses, his posture tightening as his hand wraps around hers protectively. His features shift and evolve, the emotions passing through him moving at such a pace that she feels whiplash at the sight of it. She doesn’t know what to make of this encounter so she turns and starts to run, the snow along the pathway making her progress slow and painful. It’s only a few moments before she’s struggling to breathe once more, her eyes cast towards the sky as the frustration and the pain of it all threatens to break out of her with a scream. 

 

Anne didn’t want to think about this anymore. Why had her dreams taken her back to this? Back to the horrible memories that made her feel hopeless and miserable. It wasn’t fair. She was supposed to be free now, to be happy with the Cuthbert’s and the new life she’d been given. 

 

But this day was heavy like a weight she couldn’t shuck and not even the sight of the clear blue sky overhead could give her the joy she knew she deserved. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Gilbert calls from behind her, a distance away as though he’s worried she’ll bolt again like a scared woodland creature. 

 

“What are you sorry for, Gilbert?” Anne asks carefully, arms wrapping around her chest as she turns back to face him. She wanted to run, to make it back to Green Gables and hide away in her bed until this feeling left her, but she couldn’t leave it like this. There was too many strange and unexplained things between them in this moment that if she disappeared this day would follow her for ages with unresolved questions from this boy’s ever observant gaze.

 

Gilbert takes a slow step towards her, his hands tightening on the strap of his bag as he watches her carefully. “That you went through that. No one should be punished like that,” he says with a slight shake of his head, as though he’s trying to process the sight but it pains him to think it. She nearly scoffs, nearly closes her eyes in ill-placed anger, but instead sucks in a breath and presses her hands to her forehead. 

 

“Please don’t tell everyone!” She snaps abruptly, covering her eyes and hoping against hope that there is still good in this world. She couldn’t bear the thought of the kids at school knowing what happened to her, of them holding it against her as one more thing to judge. 

 

“I would never - Anne, please,” Gilbert pleads, his hands pulling hers away until she’s forced to look at him. 

 

She wonder then when he got close enough that she could smell the woodburnt smoke on his jacket. 

 

“I don’t - Marilla and Matthew don’t know the details of it. I couldn’t stand having them pity me.” She looks away as she says it, wrists still tangled in his grip. She can’t fight it. Doesn’t want to. “Please don’t judge me for this weakness. I don’t think I’d recover if you treated me any different.” It slips out of her before she can pull it back, the fear and weight of it shifting as she vocalizes her worry. 

 

The bark of Gilbert’s laughter catches her off-guard and when she looks up at him it’s with surprise and a slight astonishment. Was he laughing at her? Now? After everything? 

 

“Let’s get you home, Anne Shirley Cuthbert, I think the cold has gone to your head if you think I’d let you use this to your academic advantage,” Gilbert sighs as he swallows back more laughter, shaking his head and squeezing her hand before releasing his grip reluctantly. The loss of his warmth feels like a bucket of cold water and it shocks her back to the present and the very real exposure of the two of them huddled together along the lonely path leading to the woods. 

 

The realization clicks into focus and she jumps back abruptly, glancing around them as though waiting for Billy to pop out from behind a tree. “I shouldn’t have - “ 

 

“Anne,” Gilbert interrupts, stepping up beside her as she turns once more in a circle to scan the horizon. 

 

“Your reputation -  _ Ruby _ \- “ she stutters and gasps, looking fitfully around his shoulder and down the pathway. Her relief is apparent when she finds no one lurking, no soul prepared to ruin her by catching her in this moment of weakness. 

 

“ _ Anne _ .” His voice is soft as his hand stretches out to graze her shoulder, his fingers slipping gently down the braid that hangs there. Not long ago he’d tugged on that braid and teased her with ‘ _ Carrots _ ’ causing her only recourse to be her slate against his cheek.  _ So much had changed since then _ , she thought, looking up to meet his eyes with hers. 

 

“Walk me home, Gilbert,” she requests quietly, extending the olive branch between them as he falls into step beside her. 

 

He doesn’t pry for more of what troubles her but he doesn’t silence her when she recounts some of the more vibrant memories that sift through her mind. Taking it with as much stoicism as he can muster, Anne admires the way he listens through the difficult parts and offers only small words of encouragement, of respect, as she shares the less fanciful details of her past. 

 

The walk isn’t long but it’s enough to help her work through the heaviness of her thoughts, the act of telling her truths offering a catharsis she hadn’t realized she needed. When eventually they come up on the gates of Green Gables, Anne turns to him and scuffs her boot in the mix of mud and snow. “You promise this is between us?” She asks carefully, desperate to keep the fear out of her voice. 

 

“Until my dying days,” he says before once more pulling her against his chest. She wants to resist - knows she should for propriety’s sake - but the comfort he offers is too great to turn away and she leans into it, absorbs as much of it as she can. “If you feel like this again, please tell me. I can’t bear to think of you keeping this inside.” 

 

His words dance around her and she finally forces herself to step back, her inhale pulling her shoulders back and her chin to rise. “Gilbert Blythe, thank you for walking me home,” she smiles and blinks away the tears, ones born from kindness rather than pain. 

 

“The pleasure was all mine, Miss Shirley Cuthbert,” he replies and gives a shake of his head, walking backwards before turning on his heel. He’s halfway down the lane when Anne catches up to him once more, his heart in his throat as she grins at him. It was the first genuine smile he’d seen from her all day and it made his heart skip in his chest. 

 

“My books!” She laughs jovially, holding out her hands as he shuffles through his bag and pulls loose her items. He drags out the interaction for as long as he can, filling himself with her joy after a day without it, like land soaking up water after a drought. When finally she has everything she looks up at him with a kindness that bursts something in his chest, his heart hammering in his ears. 

 

“See you tomorrow,” he bids and blinks, taking a mental picture of the moment as he realizes Bash was painfully right. He was in love with the girl from Avonlea. 


End file.
